by A and E Kirk
“See what’s done?” I asked.
“We must tend to your injury.”
Keeping a relentless grip, he led me through the halls. He was still shirtless. We got some looks.
Correction. He got some looks.
He finally noticed the attention and grabbed a white lab coat that was draped over a chair. He pulled it on with frustrated precision, but it was too small. The front opened wide, showing off an abundance of his bare torso.
He still got some looks, but not as many, and if he caught anyone staring, they didn’t do it for long.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked warily.
“To a Healer. Do you know what that is?”
When I didn’t answer, he said, “I thought as much. What else do you know?”
I kept my mouth shut.
He made an annoyed sound. “You do not trust me? You still think I am trying to kill you?”
“Maybe.”
“After I just saved your life?”
I lifted my bandaged hand. “Saved my hand.”
“I could have let him kill you. Or worse.”
“Maybe you want to do me in yourself.”
“Maybe I will do you right now.”
I giggled.
He scowled. “What do you find humorous?”
“I think you meant you’ll ‘do me in right now.’ ”
He lifted one brow and slipped me a sly sideways glance. “Did I?”
My cheeks heated. Then my neck, and, oh, brother.
I took a deep breath.
On the exhale, I said, in what I hoped was a cocky air, “Yeah, well, as far as doing me in, Armani, you could try. I’d stop you.”
False bravado was always my favorite go-to move. Right after running, of course, and currently, that wasn’t happening. Even if I somehow managed to break free, his steely grip guaranteed that my hand wasn’t coming with me.
He smiled faintly. “I did not expect your spunk.”
“So you like spunk?”
“I have not yet decided.”
“How did you know I was here?”
“Eros.”
“Son of a jackal. He betrayed me?”
“Hardly. He saved your life.”
“I thought you saved my life.”
He chuckled. “You talk in circles.”
“How did you know where to find me? With Jumpsuit, I mean.”
“Jumpsuit?”
“The guy who did this.” I raised my bandaged hand.
Wrath tightened his features. “I followed your fear.”
“Followed my fear? What does that mean? Seriously, I’m not the only one talking in circles.”
“Followed your screams, then?”
“That makes more sense.” I guess. I was still more than a bit confused. It didn’t help that whatever he gave me for the pain was now starting to seriously make things fuzzy around the edges. Oh, jeez, it could’ve been a truth serum.
He made a noise of disgust. “You think I drugged you with a truth serum?”
Uh-oh. Must’ve said it out loud.
“Did you?” I heard myself that time.
Armani pulled in a deep, ragged breath, then swung me around so my back was against the wall. He moved in close, and I had to crank my neck to meet his gaze. It was either that or get an up-close and way too personal look at his bare chest, which with my brain a little loopy and heat still tingling through my body from the “do me” remark, probably wasn’t a good idea.
His eyes swirled in various shades of green, like the photos of Irish landscapes I’d seen from my grandparents' travels. The darkest color rimmed the edges. It was the deep, fathomless green of a wild, untamed jungle. Lighter shades churned within the irises. I even saw hues that bordered on blue, and all of it was interspersed with flecks of bronze, copper, and gold, which caught the light in an iridescent shimmer. It was an amazing kaleidoscope of color.
Kind of intoxicating.
He stared at me for a long moment. I stared back. People passed us. The place was still hopping, but if I screamed, or tried to get away, what good would it do? Mandatum personnel asking questions, shoving me into another interrogation room. I could ask for the Hex Boys. Then they’d have to answer questions. I was way out of my depth here.
Cristiano’s voice rumbled low and deep. “Rest assured, we will share a discussion of great length. I have many questions. And there will be truth between us, but not because of some drug. There will be truth between us, because I will have it no other way.” The hand not holding mine came up to cup my chin. “Is that understood?”
He was silent then. Looking at me. Waiting.
Wow. He was so intense. And big. And really, really close. I noticed a small scar above one eyebrow. Another on his jaw. The jaw that was working hard. Clenching. Unclenching.
“Uh, yeah. I mean, yes.” I nodded. “Sure.”
Agreeing with the psycho assassin seemed the best course of action. Now that the good feeling adrenalin rush from not dying was fading, I started to realize just how much trouble I could be in.
His gaze traveled down my body, then back up, stopping at the top of my head. It was more of a clinical appraisal than anything sexual, which is why, when he looked directly into my eyes and spoke, I wasn’t expecting the words that came out of his mouth.
“I want you out of those clothes and in a shower.”
My jaw dropped, then moved up and down, but it took a few seconds for syllables to form. And even then, it wasn’t much.
“Nuh, huh, wh-what?”
He gave me another once over. “I want your appearance back to normal. Soon. Your eyes are wrong.” He touched a strand of my hair which had come loose from the braid. “This will wash off, yes? And your skin too?”
“Oh,” I heaved a breath. “Yeah. Washes off. Whew. I thought you meant, uh…”
He cocked his head, curious. “Meant what?”
“Uh, nothing. Let’s get to that Healer, shall we?” I barely resisted the impulse to fan my burning cheeks.
“Yes, you must come,” he said.
He moved in front of me and led us down the hall, his hand still holding mine in that iron grip, its relentless pressure somehow comforting. He’d turned away quickly, so I couldn’t be sure, but I could’ve sworn there were the beginnings of a mischievous grin tilting the corners of his mouth.
After one more turn, Cristiano shoved a door open, and we entered a room that reminded me of the hospital emergency room. Beds sectioned off with white curtains, an antiseptic aroma, the soft hum of machines, but a serene atmosphere overall. Until the quiet murmuring of people bustling around was broken by Cristiano’s curt order to one of the doctors who was tending patients.
As Armani spoke, his hands moved to my waist and lifted me onto an empty bed, then he tugged the curtains with unnecessary force to close them around us. His hands turned gentle as he removed the bandage off my wound when a woman in a lab coat hustled in. She looked about my grandma’s age, grey hair in a bun, a kindly face.
She smiled at me. “And what can I—”
“Stab wound,” Cristiano cut in. “Knife. Her hand. Fix it.”
She nodded slowly. “Of course. May I ask—”
“No,” Cristiano snapped. “Just repair the damage. No scar. Also here.” He pointed to the cut on my arm, which I’d actually inflicted myself with the swinging knife braid. “There is also bruising on her face, blunt force trauma on the back of her head, and another laceration here.”
I jumped when his finger traced under my jaw where Jumpsuit had cut me. At my reaction, his frown deepened. “Did he harm you in any other way?”
I shook my head.
The doctor looked at Cristiano’s hand holding mine and said to him, “Perhaps you’d like to wait outsi—”
“No.” The ice in his voice dropped the room temperature to subzero. “Do your job. Now. Or I will get someone else.”
“Maybe the young lady would prefer privacy,” the woman offered.
“Yeah,” I said. “Maybe I would.”
Getting some distance might be helpful. His hand on my skin was starting to feel…normal? Not the right word. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but the feeling was freaking me out. I figured it was that emotional power thing he had going. Maybe he was a Hallucinator. Maybe the drug wasn’t a truth serum, but somehow lowered my defenses and made it easier for him to get to me, and in that case, getting away from him would be awesome.
Plus, I still had to find Heather and get us both out of here. Not looking good. Was she even still here? Man, what a mess.
Cristiano’s eyes narrowed at me, then he turned a near vicious look on the Healer. “I am not leaving. I outrank her, and you for that matter, so I make the decision. But if you would like to check.” He turned to me with a sparkling smile. “Would you care to tell her your name and rank so she could confirm the records?”
Feeling my back against the proverbial wall, I offered him a little sneer before telling the woman, “He can stay.”
The Healer cast Cristiano a wary glance, then placed her hands on top and bottom of my injured one. Her eyes swirled a dark blue. I held my breath, not sure what to expect, but other than a vague tickling sensation, there was nothing. Then she yelped and pulled her hands away, reeling back.
Cristiano jumped in front of me, pulled a knife out of nowhere, and pointed it at the doctor. “What did you do?”
“Nothing,” she sputtered, her hands up. “There was a spark of some sort. That’s never happened.”
“I’m okay. See?” I reached my arm over his shoulder to show him the previously wounded hand which was now good as new. The spark probably had something to do with my blasty power.
Cristiano turned my wrist a few times to check out my hand. He nodded, then motioned to my jaw and ordered the woman, “Fix that now. But be careful.”
She took a tentative step forward and pointed to the scars on my shoulder. “Shall I remove these as well?”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek. Huh. A chance to get rid of these ugly things? A bitter reminder of the horror? I should jump at it, right? Cristiano was looking at me, brows lifted in silent question. I could see the many scars on his chest.
“Uh, no.” I shook my head. Wouldn’t know how to explain them being gone to my family anyway.
After the doctor “erased” the bruising on my cheek, the bump on my head, and the damage on the recent cut with nothing more than a slight tingling on my skin, she said, “I’ll get the forms for you to sign.”
Uh-oh.
“There will be no records,” Cristiano said, leading me out.
“But everyone must—”
Cristiano turned abruptly, a violent sound from his throat startling the doctor into silence. “I am not everyone.”
Then we left. Unchallenged.
CHAPTER 64
Cristiano strode purposefully down the hall. My long legs were the only reason I was able to keep up. The place seemed more crowded now, but he deftly weaved us through the throng. Good, because I was still feeling lightheaded from the effects of the painkillers.
“Where are we going now?” I asked, a little breathless as he maneuvered us into an area that had fewer people.
He grunted in annoyance. “I am not trying to kill you. I am trying to protect you.”
“Really?” I said with heavy sarcasm. “Because you’re a scary assassin guy, and despite today’s Sir Galahad impression, the ‘protecting me’ angle,” – Since he still had me in that steely grip, I could only use one hand for finger quotes – “is a little hard to believe after you tried to cut my throat and put a bullet through my brain. Twice.”
He snorted a laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“I am Sicarius. I do not try to kill someone, I kill them.”
I thought about that. “Meaning if you wanted me dead, I’d be—”
“Dead. Several times over.”
“So how do you explain all those times—”
“I offer no explanation,” he said. “You would refuse to believe me anyway, and we do not have the time. I need to remove you before we attract any more attention and you are further detained.”
He glanced meaningfully at my hand. The one that only a short time ago had a knife sticking out of it. A chill shivered down my spine. The last thing I wanted was to be “detained” again.
“Fine,” I told him. “But we need to make a quick side trip first.”
“No.”
“But I have to—”
“I said no.”
I stopped. Or tried to. I dug in my heels and leaned back, but his iron grip on my hand only tightened, and the sheer weight and force of him still dragged me forward. Finally, after I yanked my body back with a hard jerk that rattled my arm up to my shoulder, he stopped too.
He faced me with a fierce glare.
I glared back and spoke in a low growl, my words clipped. “I have something I need to do. Now, you can either help me do it, or at least protect me like you claim to want to do, while I do it, or get the heck out of my way.”
His glare intensified. “Or what?”
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Or I’ll go through you to get it done.” Assuming my blasty power was stronger than whatever power he possessed.
One of his brows ticked upward. “And if you cannot get through me?”
Goodness he seemed confident on that score. But he hadn’t a clue of my capabilities. I could catch him off guard. Maybe.
“Then I’ll try, try again,” I said. “It’s the Aurora way. Which usually makes so much noise, we’ll probably end up detained, which puts us both in danger, and all of your saving me would be for naught. Is that what you want?” I really hoped that wasn’t what he wanted, but I wasn’t giving up on Heather.
Anticipating the need for a desperate getaway, and hoping to jumpstart a surge of power, I flexed my fingers on the hand he didn’t hold, the one recently healed.
When my movements caught Armani’s eye, I froze. His gaze locked back onto mine. After a few way-too-long moments during which, remarkably, I didn’t flinch, his angry expression faded into exasperation.
“Spunk,” he said. “I have decided I do not like it.”
“Well, around me, you’d better get used to it or—”
“Get out of your way. Yes, yes.” He gave an annoyed wave of his hand. “What is so important?”
Excellent. I finally had the upper hand. “Want to help me save someone’s life?”
CHAPTER 65
He actually said no.
And meant it.
We once again cruised down the halls, but in an area not quite so crowded. I had a feeling we were getting close to getting out of there.
“I can’t leave without her,” I protested.
“No.” He led me down the hall. “We must go.”
I yanked my hand and when that got me nowhere, kicked the back of his knee. At least I tried to. Somehow I missed, felt a strange vertigo, lost my balance, and almost went down on my butt. He pulled me up, folded my arm around my back, and yanked our bodies together, backing us into a dark alcove. His face was an inch from mine.
“Why?” His bare chest smashed against me, radiating heat, his eyes growing darker as he locked our gazes together. “You desire me to risk both our lives? Tell me why.”
With a jolt of anger, I hissed, “If we don’t find her, she’s dead. I can’t let that happen. I need to talk to her.”
His eyes kept searching my face, relentless. In a voice full of gravel, he repeated, “Why?”
I held his gaze. Which wasn’t easy because it was heavy. It weighed me down with a near staggering, burning intensity. Good thing I’d been working out.
I chewed on my lip, thinking, deciding.
I let out a long breath. “Because you may not be trying to hurt me, but someone is, and this girl can give me answers as to who and why.”
The lines of frustration on his forehead disappea
red. “Oh. Why did you not say so? What ward is she located within?”
I told him, then said, “I don’t know if she’s there.”
“Understood, but it is a place to start. A logical place for Jumpsuit to stash her while he dealt with you. We must be swift.” He took my hand, and we hurried down the hall.
“Just like that? After all the no, no, no, now it’s yes, yes, yes?” I said in my best over-the-top Italian accent.
He shrugged. “Your safety is my priority. As long as the trip does not jeopardize that, we will accomplish the task. But tell me, why does someone want you dead?” When I remained silent, he closed his eyes and shook his head. “How can I protect you if you do not trust me?”
“How can I trust you if you do not protect me?”
He smiled. “Circles again.”
“What can I say, I like geometry.”
“Not according to your grades.”
“Everyone’s a critic.”
He looked thoughtful. “I have been protecting you, and yet you still begrudge sharing your trust. Tell me, why did you trust the Hex Boys?”
“I didn’t,” I snorted. “At first I thought they were—”
“—trying to kill you? Then there is hope for me.”
He turned a corner. Up ahead there was a group of armed guards. Without missing a beat, he spun around and led us back the way we’d come.
“You also trust your family,” he said calmly, like we hadn’t almost run into trouble. “Although not enough to reveal to them what is truly going on in your life.”
“I’m protecting them,” I said defensively.
“If you say so.”
“Look, whatever you want from me, I’ll deal with it, but keep—”
“Your family out of it,” he said smoothly.
“Uhhh, yeah.”
“And the Hex Boys as well,” he added.
“Ooookay.” Glad we got that settled. “And let me just add Psyche to the list.”
“The wife of Eros?” he said with surprise as he stopped to glance around a corner. “A centuries-old Mandatum hunter recently rumored to be rescued from Hell. She should be added to the list of those who you would like protected?”
